Our cat George is precocious, demanding and incorrigible.
George moved in with Jo and I (although he pays no rent whatsoever!) about a year ago after living with Joanna's sister Jodie for about a year before that. Prior to this, his story is a little less clear. It's possible he lived as a frat house mascot, spent time as a model for Cats & Kittens Magazine, or perhaps starred in a super-hero show on ABC about an unlikely and generally mild-mannered feline house pet. One thing we know for sure however, that a family locked him up in a shed (we discovered this later through craigslist) and after his escape he came to the sliding door of my parents home in the summer of 2009, pawing to come in.
And in he came, first to our home, and quickly into our hearts.
Still he's ruthless, intimidating, destructive and ... wonderful. Truly, he is the Marley and Me of cats. Although at times he's completely infuriating, other times he redeems it all through a sweet cry and rub against our leg. Even though he eats any flowers I buy for Jo, his incessant purring and sighs upon our lap confirms the truth of the whole debacle: as much as he loves and needs us, we're equally bound to him. Turns out he's a bit of an instructor as well.
Just yesterday I was up at 6, experimenting with a return to early mornings spent reading the word and praying for our family, the baby, all that is coming I can't see, and trying to align myself to a Source that is sufficient for the stress of a day on earth. Noble intentions - utterly confounded as George followed me from the bed and began his regular routine of ripping up carpet, sharpening his claws on the furniture, and tap-tapping things off the coffee table and hutch. Jo can tell you, I was so frustrated at the interruption that pens were flying his direction (though missing) and my hissing vilification of him was enough to wake her roughly 14 minutes before regularly scheduled.
It turns out he is quite the teacher indeed.
You could say I shouldn't have let it get to me, or that it's an exercise in controlling my temper. I know because in the moment I thought that too - taking deep breaths, trying to bend time like Neo from the Matrix, and who knows what else - to no avail. Twenty four hours later, I can mostly chalk it up to a loss of control, as humbling as that is. You know what I'm talking about, it's that part of you that longs for order and sanctuary like a Buddhist in his rock garden, sipping tea and smelling the wind... and reaching over to trim his bonsai tree every two years. Now really, is that so wrong?
Reality is, I've never been to a rock garden. I don't even have one of those little sand-things on my desk! Jo and I get ready in the rush of a single bathroom, drive to work in traffic, and bust our behinds all day long. When 5pm rolls around, we're lucky to have enough left over for a trip to the gym and dinner before our eyes involuntarily slide shut around 9:30. Sound familiar?
And yet, we're called to an existence of waiting patiently for the things that are to come. Not only are we not in control, but the earth itself is moving toward a new beginning, "as in the pains of childbirth." There is some of that in us too - a something that sees life as we know it as not quite right, that longs for things to be made perfect. God put that in us, but it's all too easy to let it work itself out in an unspoken standard of perfection in the here and now. We long for a easy commute, delicious meals each night, clothes that clean and fold themselves, cars that never break down, simple fixes, quick solutions... and even amiable, languid cats.
But we're not promised that life here; it may not come for another 10,000 years. In the meantime, I find some encouragement that each of these "hardships" points us in a way to a time when the longing in us and all of creation will be fulfilled. Even then however, it won't be our own control that takes over - thank heaven!
So Dr. George, thanks for the lesson. I'll see you in the morning.
March 07, 2011
House on a Mountain
I love Ingrid Michaelson's song "You and I."
I'm a sucker for simple melodies, unassuming vocals, clever lyric, and duets that remind me of Jo and I. That's the beauty of a universal love song I suppose, just about anyone could think it's been written for them. Over the last few weeks though, Jo and I began to have a special attachment to this song as we quite nearly bought a "house on a mountain, making everybody look like ants..." When I say nearly, I mean to say that we were under contract, and even paid the $400 for an inspection.
I've never even come close to buying a home before, so this was quite a leap. We found it on our own, driving around one day - that to say, we weren't really in the market or looking. It was a quaint cottage nestled on a corner lot up the hill in Palmer Lake, and when I call it cozy, I mean it - 560 square feet of cozy. It was the cheapest home in the neighborhood, and in truly great condition for a home built in 64'. Looking into the sky on a third of an acre, with a steal of an asking price, killer interest rate, great broker, lender and even seller - everything seemed too good to be true... In a way.
I have to admit, there's something in a respectable man (something I hope I'm becoming more of) that starts clicking into place when he gets married, and then rolls into high gear when he is becoming a Father. It's this weird, protective, providing instinct that begins to take over his waking mind. There began to be something in me that wanted this place for its privacy, security and dependability. There was another piece that swelled in my to keep up with the Jones', get started on an investment of some sort, and find a place to 'tend' - to grow and develop by the sweat of my brow. All the while, I was asking God for direction, for any hint as to what we should do. Surly he has the corner market on what makes a good decision - looking at time from outside it and being omniscient and all... But although I prayed, opened myself to hearing his voice, and tried to hold any idea loosely, I got nothing.
A test of faith if you will.
But, all of my instinct about the affair began to blind me to a truth, lurking in the back of my mind. I had tried to ignore it, thought of ways around it, but still it remained: We couldn't afford to buy the house.
That's a fairly straightforward thing to say to the whole world on your blog, but there it is. Let me add a caveat: we could have made it happen... maybe. And this is where I was, yesterday even. But then, yesterday afternoon we brought my parents into the equation and took them to see it; beautiful view, white trim, quaint town and all. Gravel crunched under the tires on the dirt roads, and the trees swayed in the breeze as a bite in the air suggested adventure. They loved it too.
Afterward, at coffee I laid out the logic for buying, and the logic for not buying. I so appreciated the way my folks talked it out with us. They didn't say much; they didn't need to. Jo and I had already considered all the sides, all the possibilities. Yes, it could have worked, in a very "tighten-your-belt-for-the-next-15-years-and-hope-disaster-doesn't-strike" kind of way... with a few mythical raises, second jobs, and "counted-on gifts" from family, we could have narrowly squeaked by. But it ended up that God spoke indeed - through wisdom, and through his body.
CS Lewis said that "above all, [God] works on us through each other." Proverbs 24:6 says it a different way: "Surely you need guidance to wage war, victory is won through many advisers." There came a time in this debacle that I wanted to just hear from God himself; in the din of opinion it seemed people either widely encouraged us or discouraged us. Ultimately though God worked through my parents who left us to our decision and supported us along the way.
So Dave Ramsey - eat your heart out. We've re-arrived at the place of paying off debt, saving for a little addition called "Peanut," and being faithful with what we have and where we are. In Ingrid's words, what we ended up finding is that we're a little closer to the "don't you worry there my honey, we may not have any money, but we've got our love to pay the bills..."
And I've discovered that's not a bad place to be at all.
I'm a sucker for simple melodies, unassuming vocals, clever lyric, and duets that remind me of Jo and I. That's the beauty of a universal love song I suppose, just about anyone could think it's been written for them. Over the last few weeks though, Jo and I began to have a special attachment to this song as we quite nearly bought a "house on a mountain, making everybody look like ants..." When I say nearly, I mean to say that we were under contract, and even paid the $400 for an inspection.
 |
| (darling) |
I've never even come close to buying a home before, so this was quite a leap. We found it on our own, driving around one day - that to say, we weren't really in the market or looking. It was a quaint cottage nestled on a corner lot up the hill in Palmer Lake, and when I call it cozy, I mean it - 560 square feet of cozy. It was the cheapest home in the neighborhood, and in truly great condition for a home built in 64'. Looking into the sky on a third of an acre, with a steal of an asking price, killer interest rate, great broker, lender and even seller - everything seemed too good to be true... In a way.
I have to admit, there's something in a respectable man (something I hope I'm becoming more of) that starts clicking into place when he gets married, and then rolls into high gear when he is becoming a Father. It's this weird, protective, providing instinct that begins to take over his waking mind. There began to be something in me that wanted this place for its privacy, security and dependability. There was another piece that swelled in my to keep up with the Jones', get started on an investment of some sort, and find a place to 'tend' - to grow and develop by the sweat of my brow. All the while, I was asking God for direction, for any hint as to what we should do. Surly he has the corner market on what makes a good decision - looking at time from outside it and being omniscient and all... But although I prayed, opened myself to hearing his voice, and tried to hold any idea loosely, I got nothing.
A test of faith if you will.
But, all of my instinct about the affair began to blind me to a truth, lurking in the back of my mind. I had tried to ignore it, thought of ways around it, but still it remained: We couldn't afford to buy the house.
That's a fairly straightforward thing to say to the whole world on your blog, but there it is. Let me add a caveat: we could have made it happen... maybe. And this is where I was, yesterday even. But then, yesterday afternoon we brought my parents into the equation and took them to see it; beautiful view, white trim, quaint town and all. Gravel crunched under the tires on the dirt roads, and the trees swayed in the breeze as a bite in the air suggested adventure. They loved it too.
Afterward, at coffee I laid out the logic for buying, and the logic for not buying. I so appreciated the way my folks talked it out with us. They didn't say much; they didn't need to. Jo and I had already considered all the sides, all the possibilities. Yes, it could have worked, in a very "tighten-your-belt-for-the-next-15-years-and-hope-disaster-doesn't-strike" kind of way... with a few mythical raises, second jobs, and "counted-on gifts" from family, we could have narrowly squeaked by. But it ended up that God spoke indeed - through wisdom, and through his body.
CS Lewis said that "above all, [God] works on us through each other." Proverbs 24:6 says it a different way: "Surely you need guidance to wage war, victory is won through many advisers." There came a time in this debacle that I wanted to just hear from God himself; in the din of opinion it seemed people either widely encouraged us or discouraged us. Ultimately though God worked through my parents who left us to our decision and supported us along the way.
So Dave Ramsey - eat your heart out. We've re-arrived at the place of paying off debt, saving for a little addition called "Peanut," and being faithful with what we have and where we are. In Ingrid's words, what we ended up finding is that we're a little closer to the "don't you worry there my honey, we may not have any money, but we've got our love to pay the bills..."
And I've discovered that's not a bad place to be at all.
February 22, 2011
Independence, Dependency and a Solution
There is this ideal, a lofty goal perhaps, especially in American culture that it's best to go off after high school and make it out in the real world. It's this unspoken expectation in life that at some point after you graduate you should go off and find yourself. College degrees, the gold rush, the "unclaimed West," the big city... it's a familiar tale.
You might call this "The American Dream." I'm reminded of Sinatra's song, New York, "if I can make it there, I can make it anywhere..." and New York is, of all places, a "land of opportunity." It's a very familiar tale. 16 year old son goes off to the big city to work for a few years with promises to return to the family farm, and doesn't. He makes it big, and stays. This has gone from exception to rule, and now to expectation.
But in a way, I think the US in particular has now had a wakeup call. With a slumped economy, college grads have discovered they have to bust their butts to make it; jobs don't just throw themselves at you anymore and a bachelors degree isn't a ticket to prosperity. Call it an issue with an entitled generation X if you will; all duped by rich baby boomer parents that they're smart, good looking and that the world is their oyster.
I'm of a different mind. I tried that make it thing, and didn't quite pull it off. The first time. Well, that is, I'm not sure I've really pulled it off the second time (or whichever time this is), either. But you know, I think that's ok.
From what I know, parents really expected (when they were able) to help their kids out over a long period of time back in the day. I get the picture that the 'send off' period used to be much longer than the now typical three months in the summer after you graduate high school. I imagine it used to be closer to 10 years - if not more. The real surprise is a culture that so greatly values independence at all. There is something to it - I'll admit. I remember thinking, the first time my make it plan blew up in my face, "Geez, God help me so I don't end up like George Costanza."
I hope that prayer at least has been answered!
But as I read through a chunk of the Pauline scriptures, I find a different idea being encouraged; a novel approach to life becoming more and more appealing. America is slowly discovering it through pain - and most certainly sees it as more curse than blessing. They may call it dependency, but with the right heart - I call it interdependence.
Interdependence that offers a helping hand to someone in need, especially friends and family. We remember when we were helped. Interdependence that allows children without much direction the offer of time and support until they find their wings. We hoped for the same. Interdependence that hopes for peace in the midst of conflict - for truly we are all in this together.
Anymore, I'm not proud to think of myself as independent. Yes, generally Jo and I pay for our bills on our own. Yes, now we can afford to make it on our own, and for the time being have salaries that help us feel like we have it all together. But we don't. We need help, not just monetarily but relationally, emotionally, and spiritually. We've learned to embrace the help we receive with hopes that when the opportunity comes, we can do the same.
Thank God for this interdependent life.
You might call this "The American Dream." I'm reminded of Sinatra's song, New York, "if I can make it there, I can make it anywhere..." and New York is, of all places, a "land of opportunity." It's a very familiar tale. 16 year old son goes off to the big city to work for a few years with promises to return to the family farm, and doesn't. He makes it big, and stays. This has gone from exception to rule, and now to expectation.
But in a way, I think the US in particular has now had a wakeup call. With a slumped economy, college grads have discovered they have to bust their butts to make it; jobs don't just throw themselves at you anymore and a bachelors degree isn't a ticket to prosperity. Call it an issue with an entitled generation X if you will; all duped by rich baby boomer parents that they're smart, good looking and that the world is their oyster.
I'm of a different mind. I tried that make it thing, and didn't quite pull it off. The first time. Well, that is, I'm not sure I've really pulled it off the second time (or whichever time this is), either. But you know, I think that's ok.
From what I know, parents really expected (when they were able) to help their kids out over a long period of time back in the day. I get the picture that the 'send off' period used to be much longer than the now typical three months in the summer after you graduate high school. I imagine it used to be closer to 10 years - if not more. The real surprise is a culture that so greatly values independence at all. There is something to it - I'll admit. I remember thinking, the first time my make it plan blew up in my face, "Geez, God help me so I don't end up like George Costanza."
I hope that prayer at least has been answered!
But as I read through a chunk of the Pauline scriptures, I find a different idea being encouraged; a novel approach to life becoming more and more appealing. America is slowly discovering it through pain - and most certainly sees it as more curse than blessing. They may call it dependency, but with the right heart - I call it interdependence.
Interdependence that offers a helping hand to someone in need, especially friends and family. We remember when we were helped. Interdependence that allows children without much direction the offer of time and support until they find their wings. We hoped for the same. Interdependence that hopes for peace in the midst of conflict - for truly we are all in this together.
Anymore, I'm not proud to think of myself as independent. Yes, generally Jo and I pay for our bills on our own. Yes, now we can afford to make it on our own, and for the time being have salaries that help us feel like we have it all together. But we don't. We need help, not just monetarily but relationally, emotionally, and spiritually. We've learned to embrace the help we receive with hopes that when the opportunity comes, we can do the same.
Thank God for this interdependent life.
"For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others."
- Romans 12:4-5
"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
- Galatians 6:2
February 18, 2011
Almost, well - Sometime in August
Friends, the rumors are true. Joanna and I are expecting a baby!
We're only 12 weeks along at this point, but have been to several OB appointments already. Nothing quite prepares you to gaze upon the grainy screen, powered by some unknown magic or science, and see what must be your baby - so far only the size of a little lime - sitting it's sack of warm and delicious amniotic fluids. The heart itself looked like two jellyfish swimming quickly in opposite directions with tentacles tangled up together, pumping blood to our baby - who last time we checked appeared much like a gummy bear.
"Congratulations Sir, you're the Father of a healthy, 7lb bouncing baby gummy bear!"
Instead of posting my own photos of a pregnant sweetie, I'll let her do it, and point you in the right direction. I'm sure she'll be able to give a more firsthand catalogue of the tale should you be interested. In the weeks ahead, sometime in early April, we'll be halfway along and get the chance to see more - including the presence or absence of a peculiar appendage that will tell our doctors a certain something about what exactly we can expect to receive in the later parts of August. We'll be sure to spread the info to friends and family so they may adequately purchase either pink or blue. That will be an exciting day indeed.
In the meantime, I continue to work within my wife's cravings (read more here), head to the gym when she's inclined to dance the night away, and offer more than the usual number of back rubs, scalp massages, and hugs. No complaints here. :)
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